Duet
by Sigma
Summary: Duet: n 1. a musical composition for two performers. What would have happened if Elliot had joined Queens SVU in deference to Kathy's wishes? An E/O AU with a little bit of an added extra....
1. Chapter 1

Duet

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Dick Wolf owns everything. And I really wish he would put all us E/O fans out of their misery!

Author's Note: This is pretty AU. It starts after Liv has been with SVU in Manhattan for 5 years, Elliot's been in Queens SVU for seven. Liv started in SVU at 27 so she is 32 in this story, E's 38 as in canon. It's a bit different but I would appreciate your opinions... Please review!

Chapter One

When they ask her to take the test she doesn't really think about it, just signs the consent forms and goes along at the alloted time. She answers their questions, but she doesn't know what they are looking for, does the computer tests, talks to their shrink, lets them take her blood.

She's not really paying attention anyway. She only agreed to take the test because Cragen asked her to and it's a one in a million chance so there wasn't really any risk.

It's the same reason that Fin agreed to take it and the same reason that Munch never will. They talk about it at Maloney's after work, the three veterans of Manhattan SVU, the ones who have stuck it out while everyone else rotates in and out; lasting a month, two months, a year. She's got five years under her belt now, but she's never had a partner that has lasted any longer than two.

She and her two boys have formed a weird little dysfunctional threesome, pulled together by horror and adversity, but she still envies Fin and Munch their partnership a little bit. She's their girl, but they get to call each other partner, and even among straight as they come cops that title has weight.

She would never admit it to them, but she's a little lonely. The desk across from her is empty more often than not and as SVU is a volunteer unit there's always too much work to be done and not enough bodies to do it so she doesn't really have a social life, apart from the drinks with the guys at Maloney's and occasional girly lunches with their A.D.A Casey Novak.

So when they get together to drink and Munch brings the Program up as one of the many and varied ways that the government are trying to fuck with everyone's heads she nearly wants to make a protest, nearly wants to say that it doesn't sound too bad. But Fin gets there first, calling Munch a paranoid windbag with that harsh note in his voice that you have to know him really well to tell is actually affection. Thankfully they both do, so Munch just grumbles slightly back at his partner while she bites back a smile and plays with the label on her beer bottle some more.

But later when she is alone she turns the idea around in her head and to her surprise it doesn't seem as horrific as it could be. It's never going to actually happen to her of course...but if it did maybe she wouldn't be as quick to dismiss it as Munch.

She's curious enough that next day at work she goes on line and googles it. She types in 'bonded' and 'tele-empathic combat link' and contemplates what comes up with an arched eyebrow, her coffee mug slowly cooling in her hand.

It started in the military. Munch maintains that it was some sort of secret ex cold war spy off shoot, or drugs in the water or the CIA. But what everyone agrees on is that it's a little bit scary and a little bit fucked up but whatever it is it really, really seems to work.

And there is nothing else that the powers-that-be like more than results.

She reads the news reports. They're pretty few and far between because the kind of people that agree to do this thing are usually the kind of people that make it their business to stay away from the cameras. But she reads about a few of the more prominent ones, mostly the literally handful of pairs that have made it work as civilians.

The trauma surgeon and the neurosurgeon at Seattle Grace; Grey and Shepherd.

The picture has them leaning against each other half asleep after yet another 17 hour surgery. Another miracle save, another patient no one else would have a hope in hell of keeping alive on that table.

But those two are rare even among those admit to being bonded. They've gone to Stage Three; made the permanent and undo able lifetime commitment and she wonders what they are not saying to each other in front of the cameras, at the arguments they have with each other inside each other's heads.

She studies the picture a bit longer. Grey has her head on Shepherd's shoulder, he's got his lips against her temple. They both look exhausted but there's something in the way she's leaning on him and the way he's touching her, the trust in both sets of body language that hits a nerve somewhere deep down inside and she finds the nails of her free hand digging into her palm as she fights back an entirely irrational stab of envy.

Outside of Shepherd and Grey there is a husband and wife firefighting team in Chicago, two lesbian social workers in New Orleans, rumors of one or two couples in the FBI and most high profile, Congresswomen Joan Delaney and her husband and Chief of staff Robert. But they were military (and probably spec-ops) before they hit civvie street and got elected to office so they almost don't count as civilians.

But it's the final pair on the list that interests her most and it's that same one that has the brass in police forces across the country so excited.

She skims the news article but it's mostly a human interest piece, more fluff than content, all 'Hero cops!', and nothing useful. She's been the subject of a few of those pieces herself, every time she adds another commendation to a file already bulging with them. She's long since ceased paying any attention to what's said unless Munch sticks one on the squad room wall to tease her about it. Fin smirks sometimes and calls her the pinup girl of the whole fucking NYPD, but she just gives him the finger and smirks back while Munch points out to his partner that he's certainly never going to get _his _ugly mug pinned up on a wall unless it's by a perp. They both agree that Liv is far more photogenic. By this point she has usually rolled her eyes and retreated back to her files.

But despite the op ed nature of the writing she can read between the lines as well as any other cop and there is some actual information amongst all the fluff. And if she can get some useful info from amongst this crap she bets the brass have files of stuff that no one else gets to see.

She looks at the photo above the byline. Two LA cops, armored up in S.W.A.T gear. Nothing unusual about that, except that one of them is a Latino woman and that's pretty rare in S.W.A.T, even now. The other is a Caucasian male and about 8 inches taller and outweighs his partner by a good 20 or 30 pounds. So far not really that unusual. But then you look closer and see the body language, see his hand curled around her shoulder possessively; the way she leans into him just a little and things take on a slightly different perspective.

Helena Rodriguez and John Talbot. The first two cops in the country to agree to being Bonded. The shining success of LAPD's S.W.A.T program. Immaculate arrest records, hostages saved, etc, etc. The article waffles on about heroism and teamwork and love and other shit like that but is irritatingly vague about what she really wants to know.

Like what it is like to always have someone else in your head, to carry around the emotions of a whole 'nother person with you. Do they ever get used to having another person talk inside their heads? What happens when they have a fight? How do they stand it when the other is just pissy and they can't just give them some space because they can't get away? How come they haven't killed each other yet?

'Cause they all know the other stories, the ones that lurk in the undergrowth like the dark side of the silver lining. Those are the ones Munch loves to harp on about, about soldiers driven insane by the pressure of having someone else inside their heads with them, about Bonds that have the opposite effect than intended, ripping existing relationships apart and sowing hate where only affection was before.

Admittedly most of those stories are years old now, from the very beginning of the Program before it went public. Back then, when it was still in the experimental stage they tried to up the numbers too much. It was purely a military thing then and the military brass put pressure on their best guys to agree to it. Some did. And that was when it became clear that it not only wouldn't work when both parties weren't genuinely willing but that it also didn't work if both individuals weren't inherently stable beforehand and didn't possess a particular set of psychological characteristics.

So the U.S military found itself in the weird ass position of acting as a kind of fucked up matchmaker. Every new recruit was now subject to the standard battery of tests on entry, but even amongst those who would be able to hack a Bond numbers of those who did actually enter into one of the three stages of the link were pretty rare. And most of those were in the spec ops community.

Which made sense to her. Spec ops were used to dealing with weird shit anyway and the relationships in their units were closer than most. Of course the flip side of the military's eagerness to utilize this new resource had been the gradual integration of women into all combat units. You couldn't utilize the increased effectiveness of a Bonded pair if you only had one on the ground and statistics had shown over and over again that the most successful pairings were those when the two involved were involved and not just emotionally.

Of course this meant that Hollywood had immediately capitalized on this to produce some truly awful movies. It was a whole new genre – the angst ridden 'bonded' couple. Like some kind of fucked up Romeo and Juliet for the 21st century. Despite the fact that they had no basis in reality. Ordinary civilians just didn't have the option. The ability to create the link was closely guarded and ringed around by sixteen million layers of red tape and necessary sign off's. And as yet there didn't seem to be an available black market, a thing for which cops across the planet were intrinsically grateful.

Perps were bad enough. Perps with psychic bonds were a nightmare none of them wanted to think about.

She looked at the photo of Talbot and Rodriguez again. They were smiling at the camera and they looked good together. But it was the same thing that had struck her with Grey and Shepherd that really got to her. The body language. The way his body so clearly was shielding her back, the way her eyes were sharp even when they were just having a photo taken. They were a unit, a true partnership and she felt her gut stab with that totally irrational stab of envy again. She'd never had that, never admitted to any one outside her own head how much she'd always wanted it. She looked at the two of them for a minute longer and took a sip of now cold coffee.

"Liv."

The sound of her colleague's voice breaks her reverie and she looks up at Munch's tired face as she closes the page down.

"Hhmm?"

"Dispatch just called in. We've got a rape/homicide down in TriBeCa."

She was moving even as he was telling her, grabbed her coat from the back of her chair and pushed up from her desk to join him.

"You catching?"

Munch rubbed his hand across his eyes. "Yeah. Fin's got court."

He glanced at her sideways, noting the faint air of abstraction on her face, the slight furrows across her brow. "You good?"

She turned to look at him surprised by the query and smiled a little, bumping his shoulder with her own reassuringly. "I'm good. Come on, _old man_. Let's see if we can this done before your bedtime." She quickened her steps, pulling ahead slightly and he chuckled as he followed.

"SuperBenson to the rescue again."

She flashed him a smirk over her shoulder. "You'd better believe it."

And as he matched her steps down the precinct corridor she firmly focused on the here and now. Perfect partnerships were a fairytale anyway. And if there was one thing she knew how to do it was live in the real world.

She glanced at Munch, walking in step with her with the ease of long familiarity and felt a flash of warmth. And her real world wasn't half bad. At least in her world princesses didn't wait for the prince to come and save them. Instead they kicked ass and saved themselves.

She didn't think about the test results again for six months.

And by then it was far too late to contemplate the what ifs.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Six months later

It was pretty quiet in the squad room for once. Munch was at court and Fin was taking advantage of the dry spell to take a personal day. Olivia was contemplating whether she should start working on one of her pet cold cases that she had accrued over the years when Cragen appeared at the edge of her desk, looking even more hangdog than ever.

"Olivia, you got a minute?"

"Sure Cap. What's up?"

"It'll be better in my office."

Curiosity piqued, she followed him into his office, raising an eyebrow to find George Huang already there. She was even more intrigued when Cragen firmly closed the door behind them and motioned for her to take a seat. She couldn't think of any thing that she had done, or had failed to do that would merit a dressing down. She wasn't due for appraisal or promotion and it wasn't as if she had been stressed enough lately to warrant a visit to the departmental shrink. So why was Huang here?

"What's this about Cap?"

Cragen waved off the worried tone in her voice with a dismissive gesture.

"It's nothing bad, Olivia. It's just that," he hesitated and looked away before continuing, his frown lines deeper even than normal.

He wasn't wholly convinced about this plan of action and it was only the pressure the brass were putting on him from above that was making him broach the subject at all. It went against the grain to consider allowing one of his best detectives, a woman who was in reality the next thing he had to a surrogate daughter to be subjected to something that was close enough to a science experiment. Sure, if she agreed to it the result could be one of the best things that had ever happened to her.

But on the other hand it could go horribly wrong. And Benson had fought too hard to reach her present state of equilibrium for it to be upset for nothing now.

But the brass had made it clear that if he didn't broach the issue with her they would. And Cragen knew they would have a lot less care for her well being than he would.

He looked back up to meet her curious chocolate brown gaze. Sometimes he wondered how no one else outside their own little incestuous group had ever really realized how vulnerable Olivia Benson was under her tough ass cop exterior. All you had to do was look into those huge eyes to see every emotion flickering across them. But outside of Munch and Fin and himself no one else seemed to get that.

Which was a pity for Liv's social life, but probably a good thing for her professionally. Both perps and the brass weren't above using an individual's weaknesses against her. But enough stalling. This thing wasn't going to get to be easier to discuss by avoiding the subject.

"Liv, you remember those tests you sat about six months ago?"

She raised an eyebrow as she slowly nodded her assent but didn't shift from her relaxed posture in her chair.

"Well, the results have finally come through."

She shrugged. "It's negative, right Cap? I guessed they would be."

She pushed up from her chair to leave. "It's fine. I never thought that they would be anything else."

Cragen shook his head quickly and gestured for her to sit down again. Surprised, she obeyed.

"You got it all wrong, Olivia. Your results came in, alright. But they were positive."

She gawked at him in disbelief. "You're kidding, right? I mean the chances of that happened are literally million to one, so that can't be right."

Huang cleared his throat. "Actually Detective, the chances are something like 1.1 million to one," he interjected. "But, no Captain Cragen is not kidding. You are actually that one in a million."

She turned her incredulous gaze on him, scanning for signs that this was some elaborate practical joke. But his face was serious, as was Cragen's and she swallowed, her throat suddenly dry as the implications started to sink in.

She sat silently for a moment, staring at her boots, her mind working furiously. She didn't know what they expected her to say. Was she meant to instantly volunteer for something she didn't know anything about? After her initial and short lived burst of curiosity six months ago she hadn't given the idea another thought. And now it was suddenly crashing in on her. She shook her head and looked from one man to the other.

"I don't know what this means. What are the implications?"

Huang turned to face her, his expression serious and his eyes intent. "The first thing you have to remember Detective Benson is that if you don't want this to go anywhere you have an absolute right of refusal. The whole process only works with the committed consent of both parties involved. There are no half measures and it is not in any way, shape or form a process that can be successfully forced."

"So if I don't want to do anything about this there will be no repercussions?" she queried both of them.

Cragen nodded. "I won't pretend that the Brass isn't highly interested in how this might pan out. But as Huang has pointed out there is an awareness of the fact that this is something that can't be coerced. I have been assured that if you don't want to take it forward there will be no repercussions."

He shifted in his chair and her gaze sharpened as she picked up his unease.

"So you've both made it clear that there are no repercussions if I don't want to make anything more of this. I get that. However, I doubt you would have gone to all this trouble to make it clear that I didn't have to agree to something if the whole thing was still purely theoretical," she stated, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

Cragen's mouth turned up in a half smile at her perceptiveness. "You're right. We wouldn't have. Basically we lucked out."

Olivia's other eyebrow rose at the "we" comment and Cragen answered her unspoken question.

"By 'we' I mean the NYPD. That one in a million statistic struck twice."

Benson lent forward in her chair, shocked. "You mean that there's someone else that passed the tests in the NYPD?"

At Huang and Cragen's confirmatory nods she sat back again, nonplussed. "Jesus."

She narrowed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest as the implications sank in. "Captain, let's get one thing straight. I'm not willing to leave SVU. This job is too important to me. This unit matters to me. I'm not willing to risk that to go off to robbery or homicide or wherever this other one in a million pick is based on a slim chance that this thing might work out. That's not an option for me."

Cragen bit back a smile. He recognized the firm line of her jaw and the resolute body language. This was Liv at her most stubborn and he would sooner be able to move a mountain than change her mind.

"It's okay Benson. No one expects you to move," he soothed.

She relaxed a little at his rumbling tones and shifted in her chair. "Actually when I said we lucked out I should have clarified. We _really_ lucked out. The other person that passed the test is already a detective. And even more unlikely – they're a detective in SVU."

She sat bolt upright. "SVU in the NYPD?" She didn't believe it. It was too weird; too much of a coincidence for it to be true.

Cragen nodded. "Yup. I didn't believe it myself either. But," he shrugged. "It's genuine. It's just one of those freaky ass coincidences."

She sat back in her chair, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth and chewing on it furiously as she thought. "What borough?"

"Queens."

She mused that over some more, while they sat in silence waiting for her answer. They could see the possibilities turning over in her mind. "Do you think that they might be willing to transfer?"

Cragen raised an eyebrow at her in response. "You'd be willing to consider taking this forward then?" he queried.

She gave a slow nod. "Possibly. Maybe. I don't know. I don't know enough about it, or the implications. I'd need more information."

Huang broke in. "I'd make sure you were both fully briefed."

She smiled at them both. "Even with - I can't guarantee anything. I mean I might hate him or her on sight which would kind of negate the point of the exercise."

Cragen shrugged off her comment. "Well we're understaffed as it is. At the very least we'd get another warm body which is something we could really do with. And it's been a while since you had a partner. How long since Beck left?"

Dani Beck had been a transfer in from warrants. The two of them had formed the beginnings of what could have been a solid partnership but it had been short lived. Dani couldn't handle what happened to the victims and had only lasted 6 months before she requested a transfer. Liv still met up with the other woman every few weeks for a drink.

"Four months." It had been a long time to sit across from an empty desk and have to use a unit as backup when she went canvassing.

"You're about due then. What do you say I put out feelers; see what this Queens' detective thinks about a transfer?"

She considered for a moment and then nodded slowly. "I'd be on board with that."

"Good."

Recognizing a dismissal Liv pushed up from her chair and nodded to them both. "Cap. Doc," before heading out the door.

The two men looked at each other for a long moment. Finally the Captain broke the silence. "What do you think?"

Huang shrugged. "At this stage I don't know. It'll very much depend on the other party. But it'll be interesting to see how it all works out.

Cragen frowned. "Interesting - I suppose that's one way to describe it. Well I'll put out the feelers and I'll keep you copied in as requested. We'll have to see how it goes."

Huang got up to leave and headed for the door, pausing as something occurred to him. "Captain?"

Cragen looked up from his paperwork. "Yeah?"

"What's the name of the other party?"

Cragen searched through his papers until he found the appropriate file. "Stabler. Elliot Stabler."

"I suppose it's up to Detective Stabler then," Huang commented as he headed out the door.

Yeah, Cragen mused, taking in the photo on the personnel dossier. He supposed that it was.

* * *

"Stabler."

Elliot turned his head to see his Captain standing at the door to his office, frowning furiously.

"My office. Now."

He exchanged a quick inquiring glance with his partner Lake but the other man shook his head briefly. He didn't know what was going on either. He mused over the possibilities as he ambled over to the open office.

"Come in and shut the door."

He did as requested and leaned against the back wall as Captain Gordon shuffled a pile of paperwork furiously. After a minute he seemed to remember that Elliot was there and fixed him with a gimlet gaze, spinning his pen between his fingers.

"You Stabler, are a pain in my ass."

Elliot's eyebrows rose at this pronouncement, but he stayed silent, waiting for the Cap to enlighten him. He knew he wouldn't be able to stay quiet for long. He was right.

"Remember the conversation we had with the Brass and that departmental shrink last month?" He waited for Stabler's nod, his mouth twisted in an irritated line. "Well, the other side in this debacle wants to know if you would be amenable to a transfer request."

Elliot straightened, ready to make an immediate protest. There was no way he was going to end up in narcotics or homicide just to satisfy the Brass's curiosity. "Cap, I…"

Gordon cut him off with a sharply dismissive gesture. "I know what you're going to say Stabler so don't bother. It's SVU. Manhattan SVU."

Stabler stopped in mid protest, nonplussed. Manhattan SVU….he rubbed his hand over his chin in thought. That put a different tack on things.

Lips pursued, he considered it, massaging the back of his neck absent absentmindedly. It was still faintly strange to do that and not feel the cool weight of his wedding ring against his skin even though he had been divorced for months now. Eighteen years to get used to the feel of the band against his skin and already, after only 4 months he was starting to become accustomed to its absence.

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" his Captain sounded faintly accusing and Stabler straightened up to meet his gaze.

"Maybe. It might be a good idea. I think," he hesitated, trying to articulate what he was feeling. "I think that a fresh start might be a good idea just now."

Gordon's gaze was irritated but there was an edge of compassion to it. He had been Elliot's Captain since he started in SVU seven years ago and the two men had forged a strong bond of respect that had lasted even through Stabler's downward spiral when Kathy left him.

Elliot's partner Lake had been a rookie and hopelessly unprepared to deal with the unleashed rage that had boiled up from his previously stable partner and Gordon had been forced to step in. He'd been divorced twice and like Elliot came from an Irish Catholic background. He knew something about guilt and rage.

He'd been the one to ream Stabler out and to force him to talk to his priest for counseling. He'd also been the one to drag him along to the local boxing club, so that the younger man would have some outlet for his frustration other than beer and the perps. It had worked too. It had taken a while and some close shaves but his detective was finally back on an even keel again. His closure rate was up and he was once again working well with his partner. It even looked as though Lake might end up a halfway decent SVU detective as a result.

Gordon sighed. He couldn't stop Stabler transferring if he wanted to but he had hoped that now the divorce was final that he might have settled back into the squad. Maybe if he offered him an incentive….

"You do know that you're on the road to being Captain here after I'm gone if everything stays on track?"

Elliot stared at him, blue eyes confused, hand still massaging the back of his neck. "Ah, Cap, no I never thought….."

Gordon shrugged. "You're my longest serving detective. And apart from the occasional issue you have the highest closure rate in the unit." He eyed the younger man and Stabler nodded in rueful acknowledgment. His temper really did get the best of him sometimes.

"If all goes well and you pass the exams it's a definite option. Apart from the fact that you'll leave a hole in the Unit if you go I can't guarantee that they'll offer you that option elsewhere."

By elsewhere it was obvious he meant Manhattan. Elliot shut his eyes, scrubbing his hand over his face as he concentrated. He had been attracted to the whole idea of the Program since he had heard about it. The concept reminded him of what it had been like to be in the Marines, to be part of a unit even closer than the one he was in now. And although Lake was a good guy the two of them had never really clicked the way he had with Alphonse and Jeffries.

And Manhattan SVU had a reputation. One that even the other SVU units grudgingly admitted was probably justified. Captain Cragen ran a tight unit, even though they were notorious for being chronically understaffed and overworked. By his reputation Cragen wouldn't have even considered him, Program or no Program if he didn't think that Stabler would meet his standards. It was….flattering.

Plus if he was being honest these days the squad room here had too much history for him. Too many ghosts of Kathy coming round with the kids after her stint at the hospital, too many memories of family days in the local park.

Even the interrogation rooms held too many grim reminders of the rage that had boiled up in him so easily after she had left him. Lake was too junior to him to have ever had a hope in hell of handling him when his temper escaped its bounds. Elliot was uneasily aware of how close he had come on a number of occasions to flushing his entire career down the toilet by getting more than slightly up close and personal with a perp.

He was aware that he owed Gordon a hell of a lot and that by transferring he would put him to considerable inconvenience. Nonetheless he wasn't sure that staying in Queen's was the best option for him just now.

Now the divorce was finally finalized and all the financial stuff was sorted he had been seriously considering getting an apartment in the city, just so he could live somewhere where there wasn't a memory around every corner. But it had seemed pointless while he still worked in Queens. But if he moved to Manhattan SVU it would make a lot more sense.

And while he wouldn't ever want a clean break from Queen's he could do with some space for a while. And Dickie and Elizabeth were getting old enough that staying in the city with him would be fun for them rather than scary. Maureen was already at college in the city. And of course Kathleen would love it – at least as soon as she stopped thinking that he was the anti-Christ.

It could be a new challenge; a chance to make his mark somewhere without too much history attached. New unit, new place, new partner.

For a minute his mind wandered as he wondered about the other detective who had hit the statistical jackpot. He hadn't been given any details, didn't even know whether it was a guy or a girl, although obviously if it was a guy even the Brass's most optimistic predictions would have to stop at Stage One of the Program. 'Cause although he was genuinely in no way homophobic he was also emphatically straight. And what little he had read Stages two and three worked best when the two involved were also...involved, so to speak.

His Captain coughed overtly and Elliot's head shot up, a slight flush spreading over his face as he realized he had probably been standing in his Captain's office silently woolgathering for at least five minutes.

"Sorry Cap. I just had to think about some things," he muttered sheepishly.

"I could see that." The other man's tone was as dry as dust and Elliot winced before he caught the note of humor in the older man's voice. "Well?"

Stabler straightened up from his slouch against the wall. "Cap, I'm really grateful for everything you've done for me this last year, but I think I'd like to take that transfer." He caught the flash of disappointment in Gordon's eyes and hurried to explain. "I think I need to get out of Queens for a while. There are a few too many memories about for me just now."

Gordon glared at him for a moment but whatever he saw in the younger man's cerulean gaze must have struck a chord because his glare softened slightly and he soon broke the deadlock, tapping his pen against the pile of paperwork in front of him in defeat.

"Fine, fine. I'll put the paperwork through. You'll probably hear within the next few weeks. Now go and do some work. I'm going to have to work you extra hard these next few weeks to get Lake up to scratch so he can function on his own until I can find him a replacement partner."

He waved to the door impatiently and Elliot made for the exit, biting back a smile as he did so. He knew Gordon well enough to know that he wasn't really pissed, just irritated. Just as he was about to exit Gordon cleared his throat and spoke.

"Elliot – if it doesn't work out, there will always be a place for you here as long as I'm Captain."

Stabler bit back a smile again. That was the nearest he was ever going to get to an official blessing. He turned his head as he rounded the door frame and locked eyes with his Captain. "Thanks Cap. That means a lot."

The other man dismissed his thanks impatiently with a wave of his hand. "Yeah, yeah. Go and do some work before I change my mind."

Stabler smiled to himself as he went to do just that. But for the rest of the day he found himself humming 'New York, New York' at odd intervals.

It was going to be a whole new chapter. And suddenly he couldn't wait to get started.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I own nothing! All are owned by Dick Wolf...please review!_

It was late afternoon and he had just returned from his first grocery run to stock up his new fridge in his new Manhattan walkup when he caught a glimpse of the familiar logo of an Amber alert on the muted TV screen. Grabbing the remote he quickly turned the sound up, the noise of the police press conference filling the small apartment.

He recognized the slightly hangdog older man in the uniform of a Captain from his research on his new unit and leaned closer. It was Captain Cragen, his new boss. This was a Manhattan SVU case. And that meant from tomorrow when he was meant to report to his new unit for duty it would be his case too.

His new Cap's voice was rough and already tinged with fatigue as he read the prepared statement.

"Eight year olds Stephanie March and Gillian Taylor were abducted yesterday on their way home from school by a suspect in an unmarked blue transit van. We have a brief description of the perpetrator..."

Elliot tuned him out a little, part of his brain taking in the details while the rest of him concentrated on the tiredness in his new Captain's face and the slightly red rimmed eyes that looked sunken into his head. This case was obviously a tough one and by the look of things Cragen hadn't slept for the 24 hours since the girls had gone missing. He doubted that anyone in his unit had either.

He felt a twinge of sympathy. He knew only too well what it felt like to be on a countdown against the clock. His attention back on the information brief he inwardly winced when matching school photos of the two little girls flashed up on screen. One was a red head and the other blonde and they both reminded him far too much of his own girls. But then all the child victims always did. He had eleven years at SVU under his belt and he'd never been able to detach himself from that automatic comparison.

He glanced around the small apartment, still filled with boxes from his move in yesterday. If he didn't get it done now it would take him forever once he started out on the job and his time got swallowed up. He wasn't due in until tomorrow and he really needed the day to get organized but…..

He glanced again at those photos of the little girls on the screen and was off the couch in one movement, badge clipped to the side of his jeans, wallet and phone shoved into his pockets and holster slung onto his belt. He grabbed his leather jacket with one hand and for a moment considered changing into dress pants and a tie before shrugging that inclination off. It wasn't as if he had court and officially he wasn't even meant to be starting until tomorrow so he doubted Cragen would care.

The boxes would have to wait.

* * *

He pushed through the doors of the 16th precinct into a familiar scene of organized chaos. Uniforms were everywhere, interspersed with the plain clothes and suits of detectives. Slipping past them to the reception desk he flashed his badge at the grizzled black desk sergeant who gave him a cautious nod of acknowledgement.

"Elliot Stabler Sarge. I've just transferred in from Queens SVU to Captain Cragen's unit. I was just hoping you could direct me to the SVU squad room?"

The Sarge's eyebrow's rose at his announcement and he looked a little friendlier, reaching out a hand for him to shake. "Sergeant Dickson. Yeah, I heard you were joining us. I thought you were due to start tomorrow?"

Stabler shrugged. "I saw the Amber alert. Thought you might find another body useful."

Dickson grunted his agreement. "You got that right," he gestured to the set of stairs up on his right. "SVU's on the fourth floor. It's madness up there; they've been working for over 24 hours straight so they're all spaced on coffee and adrenaline." He shook his head in rueful admiration and fixed Elliot with another weighing stare. "I couldn't do their job."

The younger man shrugged off the comment with a lopsided smirk. "Someone's got to do it."

The Sarge shrugged. "I guess. You got a lot of experience with that shit?"

Stabler nodded. "I suppose so. I've done eleven years at Queen's SVU."

The Sergeant shook his head again. "You might be mad enough to fit in with the rest of Cragen's freak show then."

Elliot smirked at the comment. He had long ago ceased being bothered by the way other units and normal cops judged those attached to SVU units. It was just part of the way things were. He was used to it. He nodded to Dickson politely and was making for the stairs when the Sarge's voice called over his shoulder.

"Stabler?"

He turned, noticing the slightly apologetic expression on the other man's face.

"Sorry about the freak comment Detective. Cragen's bunch is a good lot of people. I just couldn't do their job."

"No problem Sarge. I'm used to it."

Dickson nodded. "Yeah, I guess you probably are. You do know that initially you're gonna get a lot of flack from some guys here at the 16th?"

Elliot stilled. "Why's that?"

Dickson smiled suddenly. "It's not from being part of the freak squad, although that won't help. It's your new partner. You're getting partnered with Benson, right?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I think. What's that got to do with anything?"

Dickson grinned suddenly, the white teeth startling in his dark face. "Have you ever seen a photo of your new partner Stabler?"

El shook his head, a little confused with where the Sarge was going with this. "Nope. I only got a last name. Don't know nothing else."

Dickson's grin got wider and he actually chuckled; a low, rich rolling sound. "Oh are you in for a surprise. Let's just say there are an awful lot of men in this precinct who would pay substantial sums of money to be in your shoes right now." Still chuckling he turned away from the younger man's slightly confused expression to help the next person waiting patiently at his desk, just catching the back of Stabler's head as he rapidly disappeared up the stairs.

Boy was he in for a shock. Dickson was looking forward to the fall out.

* * *

Elliot hovered in the doorway of the squad room for a moment, soaking up the chaos. The room was pretty similar to his old unit, maybe a little larger, maybe a little grungier. The whole building was older than he was used to but from what he could see the equipment looked pretty modern.

Just now the large room was heaving; serried rows of units and detectives manning the phone banks, taking down details from the responses generated by the tip line number included as part of the Amber alert. He caught sight of an older silver haired detective, skinny as a bean pole having what looked like a heated argument with a younger goateed black detective in a beaten up leather jacket over at the coffee station. Both had bloodshot eyes and the haggard looks of men who had too much coffee and too little sleep over the last few days.

In fact the entire room had that feeling; too much adrenaline and not enough sleep. He knew that feeling deep in his gut, when adrenaline and exhaustion pushed you beyond your normal limits and the whole room became a blur.

The Captain's office was in the corner of the squad room and he knocked on the door frame, pulling the head of the older man sitting at the desk out of his paperwork. Cragen caught sight of the unfamiliar face hovering at his door and frowned for a second before he made the connection.

"Detective Stabler. As far as I know you aren't due to be in my squad room until tomorrow."

Elliot moved further into the room and extended his hand to Cragen who pushed up from his desk and shook it briefly. "I saw the Amber alert, Sir, and I thought," he shrugged "that you might need an extra body sooner rather than later."

Piercing grey eyes looked him up and down and then seemed to come to a decision. "Fine. If you want to waste a personal day working don't let me stop you. Why don't you shut the door just so we can get things sorted before I let you loose?"

Across the room Munch eyed the closed door with interest. His partner caught the direction of his gaze and raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Who's in with Cap?"

"I would place bets my friend, that the individual in question may be our new addition to the squad."

"Yeah?" Fin queried, his interest piqued.

"Certainly looks like the photo on his personnel jacket. Detective First Grade Elliot Stabler, late of Queens."

Fin shot him an amused look. "Do I even want to know how you got a look at his personnel jacket?"

Much smirked and tapped the side of his nose. "Needs must, my friend. I wasn't going to have our girl set up with some schmuck without giving her a heads up."

"So did you say anything to Benson?"

Munch shook his head. "Didn't need to. He's clean. He's got a pretty good record actually. Some good collars."

Fin eyed him narrowly, picking up on the smirk that Munch was having a hard time suppressing. "What else, old man? I know you got something."

"I may have done a little digging on the QT." Fin raised an eyebrow and Munch responded to the implicit question. "Irish catholic family. Third generation cop. Recently divorced. Four kids. Nearly went down the pan when his wife left him but he's managed to pull himself together since."

Fin shook his head, pursuing his lips in a soundless whistle. "You know, I am sometimes terrified about how your skinny ass manages to find out so much shit that it really shouldn't know."

Munch smiled briefly but forbore to comment.

"So divorced?"

His partner nodded. "Just like my second wife. The job did it for him."

Fin hummed in sympathy. "Just like it does for us all. Man we should just give up and marry the force when we join."

Munch shrugged. "Might be a better idea just to marry another cop. But apart from our girl Benson I've never had the urge." His tone was drier than dust and Fin shot him another look. He knew that there was a little part of Munch that he would never admit to that actually meant that statement, but it was generally swallowed by the same quasi-fraternal feelings that he also held for their fellow detective.

Liv had that effect on people. If they were men they either found themselves hopelessly infatuated, intimidated or wanting to act as her big brother. Weirdly sometimes it was a mix of all three. Maybe it was those big brown eyes, or the almost palatable air of tough cop exterior mixed with a hardly hidden vulnerability, but the combination seemed to push the vast majority of male buttons in a really chronic way.

The funny thing, Fin mused, was that Liv didn't even seem to notice that half of the male portion of the Precinct wanted to climb into bed with her and the other half wanted to adopt her. The only time she did seem to notice was when they got drunk and started tryin' to paw her at which point she demonstrated one of the other things she was known around the precinct for – her excellent unarmed combat skills.

However when they sobered up and came to apologize she generally didn't hold grudges.

Fin took a final sip of his coffee before nodding to his partner. "Come on – we better get back to it. Archive's just brought up another stack of reports from those kidnapping cases in New Jersey. The MO's pretty similar. We'd better take a look."

Munch nodded in agreement. "Lead on Macduff."

Just as they were ambling back to the interview room with their files Fin shot his partner another faintly amused look. "Divorced, you said?"

Munch's mouth twitched as he bit back another smirk. "So I did." The two men smirked at each other for a moment and Fin chuckled.

"Should be interesting watching another poor fool fall for the Benson effect."

Munch smirked back. "Yes, but what might be even more interesting is if Liv falls for the Stabler effect."

"Why would you think that? Liv never even seems to notice men that way these days."

Munch tapped his nose again. "Ah but you forget. Those two both passed the Program test. So that means in some weird government sponsored 1.1 million to one way they are meant to be able to form the perfect partnership. It will be interesting to see if the theory works in practice. I bet you 50 that within 6 months they will have taken their partnership to a whole _new_ level."

Fin shook his head. "I think you underestimate our girl's will power. I'll give you 12 months plus, or not at all."

"You're on."

Fin smirked to himself. This was going to be interesting to watch.

* * *

Across the squad room Cragen was giving his newest detective a brief tour of the house, ignoring the curious looks as passers by sussed out the newcomer.

"Crib's upstairs. You'll have your permanent locker there too. As I'm sure you know it's advisable to keep a few changes of clothes here but I don't want to hear that you're living in the Crib. I've got enough problems with getting the rest of them to go home at night without adding you to the mix." He shot Stabler a glare to add emphasis and Elliot firmly bit back a smile.

"Got it, Cap."

"Radios are by the door. Make sure you got one on you at all times when you're out of the house. You need anything else technical we've got a good tech guy who will be able to help you out. Morgue's down at One Police Plaza. Benson will introduce you to Dr Warner our M.E."

He moved over to the audio visual board and nodded to it. "You got this set up in Queens?"

Stabler nodded. "Not as big, but yeah. I'm familiar with it."

"Good." Cragen commented gruffly. "But you have any issues with it give Munch a call. He's got hidden talents as an audio visual freak. He can even program his damn Tivo."

Elliot gave him an inquiring look and Cragen answered the implicit query.

"Tutuola and Munch are my other senior pair of detectives. Munch's been here nine years; Tutuola's been here for four. I like to mix it up a little sometimes, so you'll probably be partnering with them both at some point. But your primary partner will be Benson. She's got five years here under her belt and she knows the job and this unit."

Stabler got the impression that this was high praise from a man like Cragen. That feeling was only intensified when he paused and fixed Stabler with another piercing stare. "I understand that you have seniority but I will expect you to respect that experience."

The two men locked eyes and for a moment Elliot felt his temper spark. He wasn't best pleased at the automatic assumption that he might behave like an asshole. But then he caught what Cragen wasn't saying; that faint edge of worry in his eyes and remembered all the times he had seen idiots who thought they knew it all come into Queens SVU and behave like assholes. Or how his old partner Monique Jeffries had had to fend of the moronic assumptions of guys who thought that just because she was a woman she was simply positive action window dressing, rather than an experienced detective who could pull her own weight.

Cragen was just looking out for his people.

Responding to that concern, rather than what Cragen was actually saying Elliot nodded his understanding. _I got it. _

Cragen gave him an answering nod and led his newest Detective off in a beeline across the room. They stopped dead beside the phone bank, Cragen in front of him.

Around Cragen's bulk Elliot could just make out the curve of a slim shoulder hunched up to hold a phone in place, the receiver barely visible beneath a mass of caramel hair. The light sparked glimpses of red in it as it tumbled in a tousled mess down to its owner's shoulders. Definitely a woman. No guy he knew on the job ever had hair like that.

The phone call finished, the woman sighed, reached out to put it back on the cradle and then looked up in mild surprise at Cragen's touch on her shoulder.

"How's it going, Olivia?"

She gave him a tired smile and Don sighed to himself at how exhausted she looked. She was running on coffee fumes and adrenaline and he reckoned that she had about another 4-5 useful hours in her before he would have to forcibly order her to take some rack time in the Crib. He glanced back at Stabler, still partly hidden from her view behind him. Well, maybe her new partner would be able to persuade her to take some time. Although he doubted it.

He shook himself mentally and before he could woolgather any further he stepped to one side, allowing Stabler to come up beside him.

"Olivia, I'd like you to meet someone. Detective Elliot Stabler, Detective Olivia Benson."

She gave her Captain another quizzical look and stood to meet Stabler's blue eyed gaze, automatically extending a hand for him to shake. His hand was warm and calloused as he firmly clasped her fingers in his.

"Hi. Elliot Stabler."

She smiled briefly at him. "Olivia Benson."

Her voice was low and smooth; a whisky honey purr and Elliot felt a shiver run up his spine. It was a voice for a bar at midnight, not a precinct room and made one hell of a change from Lake's gravel tones.

Years later Elliot would think that there should have been some warning. Some sign that made it clear when an ordinary moment would be the one you would remember as when everything started. But at the time there wasn't. He just found himself looking down to meet the tired chocolate brown gaze of a slim caramel haired woman in a form fitting black jumper and his first thought wasn't anything like any kind of revelation.

It was just a simple realization. That Dickson was right and he was going to get no end of shit from the guys at this precinct.

Because although in later years the things he was going to learn to love most about Liv were the interior things; her intelligence, her heart and her courage and the fierceness of the love in her soul – when he first met her all he could think was that she was beautiful. Even obviously exhausted and running on coffee fumes and adrenaline she was gorgeous. And he was willing to bet that when she was firing on full cylinders that she went beyond gorgeous into stunning.

She was a fuckin' symphony of glossy hair, huge dark eyes, golden skin, pouty lips, legs that went on for ever and curves in all the right places. And she was carrying a gun. She must hit every cop's libido like an alarm button. And the worst of it, he realized as he met her tired gaze again and felt her slim fingers flex in his, was that she probably didn't even notice.

He inwardly groaned. He was going to have to beat guys off his partners back with a stick.

Benson broke eye contact with him as she pulled back her hand and Elliot found his fingers flexing automatically, almost reaching for her again without thinking.

Sternly he told his wayward libido to shut down and focused on the curious look that his new partner was giving his new Captain. Cragen met her chocolate stare impassively and nodded to the both of them.

"Benson, Stabler was meant to start tomorrow, but with the Amber Alert he decided to come in early. I meant to give you a bit more warning, but needs must. Stabler's our new transfer in from Queens." Elliot could see it in her eyes, the dawning realization as Cragen continued.

"He's your new partner Liv."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me! All belong to Dick Wolf...

A/N: Any chance of a review - pretty please?

Chapter 4

Liv was getting to the stage when she couldn't remember the last time she had showered. The back of her eyes were dry and itching, her head ached and she dreaded to think what her hair looked like.

Admittedly these were not the kind of things that normally went through her head 30 hours into a countdown to find two abducted kids. Normally she didn't really give a shit what she looked like at work. As long as she was presentable at court and maintained a basic level of hygiene elsewhere she had long ago given up caring.

After all it wasn't as if the Cap and Munch and Fin hadn't seen her at her worst; covered in grime and dirt and blood, up for 48 hours straight in ancient raggedy sweats, coughing and sneezing through this year's cold. Just as she had seen them. Amongst the four of them vanity had long since gone out the window.

But it was just typical that the one time she might have wanted to make a good impression she would have been caught in two day old, wrinkled clothes with her make up long since worn off and her hair completely gone off the reservation.

_Sonofabitch._

She had wanted to make a good impression on him. Her new partner. And now that was completely shot out of the window.

She glanced up across the desk again. He was bent forward, cradling the receiver in the crook of his neck, while taking notes just he had been the other two or maybe three times she had stared at him in the last 15 minutes. Christ she had to get a hold of herself. She was acting as though she was back at High School sneaking glances at a boy she had a crush on.

Which she didn't of course. Have a crush on him. Because that would be ridiculous.

It was just that he was so, so……_present._

She'd kind of got used to the desk across from her always being empty. Before Dani that desk had been empty for six months. In fact it had been 18 months since she'd last had a permanent partner. That had been Jack Blaine, who had only lasted a year, before the victims got too much for him.

Before that she had been partnered with Helen Glover who had been on her final tour and who was now retired. She had been the best training partner a rookie SVU detective could hope for. She'd been a shoulder for Liv to cry on when her mother had died and sometimes Liv still found herself wistfully wishing that Cragen would have worked a little harder to get her to do a Munch and return after her 20 was up. But she had been determined to retire. She and Tom, her NYFD Sergeant husband had moved to Florida to be closer to their grandkids and although Liv kept in touch it wasn't the same as having her there day in, day out.

She glanced up again, just catching a glimpse of short dark hair before she tore her eyes away again. She had to stop this. She had to get her mind back into her job. But her eyes kept wandering, fascinated, to the man now occupying the desk across from hers.

The desk that was now his. Her partner's desk. He was her partner. She really had to get her head around that. He didn't seem to have a problem with it, but according to the little Cragen had told her he had eleven years in Queens SVU on his jacket. And Queens' never had the staffing problems their unit suffered from. So he'd probably always had a permanent partner. So if this worked out he would just be continuing a trend. While she had got into the habit of working either as a part of a trio or on her own.

Working as one of two was going to take some getting used to again.

And he didn't help that he was such a big sonofabitch.

It wasn't exactly that he was intimidating, because Liv prided herself on not being easily intimidated. It was rather that at 6 ft and broad across the shoulders he was kind of difficult to ignore. He combined blue eyes and classic American Irish coloring with a kind of solidity that was essentially male and sort of distracting. And she wasn't usually this easily distracted. But he was in her face and in her space. And more to the point he was going to stay there.

So she was just going to have to get over it already.

She was staring at him again. He could feel it on the back of his neck. It wasn't exactly an uncomfortable feeling, just a bit weird. Maybe if it had been lecherous or any kind of glare he would have resented it. However the one time he had actually caught the edge of her expression as she looked at him the best way to describe what he had seen was bafflement. Combined with a healthy dose of curiosity and a sort of deer-in-the-headlights surprise.

It was actually kind of cute. And also kind of funny.

Not that he was going to mention his observations to her. He had a funny feeling she'd verbally take his head off. And wouldn't that be a way to start off a partnership.

Cragen had warned him in their brief conversation that she might take a while to get used to him. He mentioned that through no fault of her own she hadn't really had a permanent partner for almost two years now and had got used to doing a lot of stuff on her own. So she might take a while to get used to acting as part of a duo again.

Well, the best way he knew to get used to something again was through constant exposure. So he was going to stick to her side like glue. And that urge to get as close as possible, well of course it had nothing to do with the length of her legs or sweet curve of her hips or the way that in the short time that he had been here he had seen three separate uni's and a detective not so subtly check her out. She didn't even seem to have noticed. And he figured it was a bit soon to start glaring at guys for perving on his partner.

He'd have to give that one at least a week.

* * *

It must have been past 10pm when he caught her sudden shift in her chair out of his peripheral vision and his head snapped up. The other pair of detectives, Munch and Tutuola, who he'd been briefly introduced to earlier, had found a possible common denominator in the MO and victimology between some old cases in New Jersey and the kidnapping. The four of them had been ripping through the files looking for any possible connection for hours now.

It looked like Benson had found something. Although admittedly he wasn't sure how her brain was still working as she had now been up for 36 hours straight. Thank god for coffee. He saw her get up from her desk and automatically turn to cross the bullpen to Tutuola and Munch.

He was about to cough or make some noise to remind her that he was there when he saw her check herself and turn to face him.

The faintest hint of a blush was coloring her golden skin as she met his eyes and he could tell she was a little embarrassed at how she had forgotten he was there. He let her off easy. Habits were a bitch to break.

"Hey, you got something?" he queried, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs out underneath the desk. She tilted her head and bit her full bottom lip and he could almost feel how unsure she was. It was like try to coax some half wild thing to take food from his hand.

He half smiled at her, reassuringly and reached out a hand for the file folder she had gripped in hers. Reluctantly she passed it over to him and came over to hover at his side as she pointed out her discovery.

"This guy here, he was a crossing guard at the school where the original kidnapping took place. Cops at the time thought he might be suspect but they already had a confession so they didn't go after him. But the file reads like the original perp might have had an accomplice. Like a partnership…."

He rapidly skimmed what she was pointing to. "So the perp that got caught was a dominant and he was – what? A submissive?" He commented.

"Yeah, I mean they never had anything really on him, just that he had a few warnings for stalking teenagers when he was younger, which at the time wasn't an offence, so he never did any time."

"Okay, I see where you're going with this. But what's the connection?"

She pulled out the most recent file. "Well the current crossing guard at the school that Stephanie and Gillian go to has the same surname and the same address."

Elliot's eyebrows shot up wondering how the hell they could have missed that. He scrutinized the photos on the file: Richard Graham the original crossing guard and Thomas Graham the one at the girls' school. They didn't look identical but there was enough resemblance to indicate some kind of family connection. Maybe brothers, maybe cousins. It's something anyway - the first link that they've found between the two kidnappings with the same M.O. At the very least they'll be able to question Thomas Graham and eliminate him from the suspect list which would be one less name to focus on.

He was conscious of Benson still hovering quietly at his shoulder. He could smell the faint trace of her perfume and the deeper muskier scent of woman-at-the-end-of -the-day and the combination sent a pulse straight to his groin. He swallowed. He had to get his mind out of the gutter.

He looked up at her and she met his blue eyed gaze steadily. She couldn't read him; too many things could be hidden behind those cerulean eyes. But the corner of his mouth was twitching and he was nodding to her and she let loose an inward sigh of relief.

"This is a good call. I think you've really got something. What's protocol to do with leads here?" he inquired.

"Normally we pass everything by the Cap first. You okay with that?"

"'Course," he shifted and pushed up from his chair, suddenly so close and so much taller than her that she nearly automatically took a step back to get out of his personal space. But then she stopped. There was no way she was going to start this thing by letting him think that he could intimidate her with his size. She tilted her head back and maintained eye contact. She was Olivia Benson and she stepped back for no-one.

For a second they stood in a classic standoff and then she caught the merest upward quirk of one side of his mouth as he broke eye contact and stood aside to let her lead them into Cragen's office.

Behind her Elliot bit back even harder on the grin that was threatening to break over his face. Still discomforted by his body's immediate reaction to her he hadn't meant to stand so close. But when he had realized that he was looming he couldn't resist the urge to see how she would react.

Whether she would be like 99 of the population and give into the urge to step back or whether she would go toe to toe with him.

He hadn't been disappointed. He had seen the initial impulse to step back flicker over her face but she hadn't acted on it. Instead he had noted how she held his gaze, chin tipping up stubbornly as he leaned closer, a fiery sparkle in her eyes belying the calm expression on her face. There was obviously a temper buried not too deep under that tranquil exterior. In a weird way he was looking forward to making its acquaintance.

He had broken the standoff with good grace. She was exhausted and this was not the time to be playing games. They had two kids to save. He followed her into Cragen's office, covering her back as a good partner was meant to do. But he couldn't help but think that Detective Olivia Benson was getting more and more intriguing with every minute he spent in her company.

* * *

As the one most likely not to crash the car through sheer exhaustion Cragen dispatched Elliot with a unit to pick up Thomas Graham from his address for questioning. By then it was 2am and he wasn't in the mood to take no for an answer so it was a good thing that Graham co-operated. Admittedly Elliot didn't exactly tell him that any attendance at the station was strictly voluntary but he figured what the skinny runt didn't know couldn't hurt him.

It was 3am by the time he got back to the precinct, dumped Graham in an interrogation and made his way to the squad room to find Benson's desk empty. He wanted to start questioning Graham but he wasn't going to start without her. He wanted to see how she worked the room but he also guessed that ditching his partner so early on in their relationship wouldn't go down well.

Munch and Tutuola weren't anywhere to be found either so he tapped on Cragen's door.

"Cap, Graham's in interrogation one. I was going to start with him, but I can't find Benson. Have you seen her?" He inquired.

Cragen grunted an affirmative. "I ordered her up to the Crib half an hour ago. I wanted her to get 20 minutes before you started on Graham. You'd better go and wake her."

"Upstairs, right?"

"Yup," Cragen smiled slightly, "but be careful how you wake her, Benson's got killer reflexes."

He took the warning with a pinch of salt but quickly revised his opinion when a hand on his sleeping partner's shoulder nearly left him with a broken nose. He back pedaled across the dimly lit room at speed and ignored the subdued chuckles from a few of the other occupied bunks. Obviously his new partner's reflexes were well known across the precinct. He might have considered being offended except for the fact that Benson was obviously still only half awake; brown eyes hooded and confused.

He waited until she had sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bunk before informing her that they had Graham downstairs. That seemed to pull her into full alertness and she followed him down the stairs without further comment.

God, she was so embarrassed. Don had finally lost his patience with her excuses and had ordered her to get some sleep but she was sure he hadn't intended for her to almost deck her new partner as a result. Someone should have warned him about waking her up before sending him up to the crib.

It wasn't even a reflex that she could do anything about. Too many years dodging her drunken mother's abusive tantrums had drummed into her subconscious that a hand coming towards her as she came out of sleep was almost guaranteed to be unfriendly.

That, coupled with the unarmed combat training she had been taking since she was 16 had refined the reaction into an automatic defensive/offensive combination. Unless the other person was with her when she fell asleep her body's instinctive reaction was to come up swinging and then get the hell out of dodge if they stayed too close.

Thankfully Stabler had backpedaled so fast that the flight part of her fight/flight reaction hadn't kicked in. Now she just had to face a new partner that she had nearly decked after only knowing him for a few hours. She was going to kill whoever had sent him up to the crib without warning him.

They reached the glass outside the interview room and she rough combed her hair with her fingers in a vain attempt to make it more presentable. She could feel him looking at her and reluctantly raised her eyes to his. She had to say something.

"About upstairs – I'm really sorry. The whole coming up swinging thing. I shouldn't have, it's just not something I can really control. Someone should have warned you..."

Her brown eyes were wide and apologetic and he found it impossible to hold onto any irritation when faced with the sincerity in her coffee colored gaze.

His lips quirked in the slightest of smiles. "It's okay. Cragen did warn me. I just didn't believe him. You've got a good right hook there, slugger," he teased gently.

To his amusement she broke eye contact and blushed a little, rose staining that golden skin. "Yeah, but still," she muttered. "It's no excuse."

He hastened to reassure her. "It's okay Benson, it really is. I'll just have to be careful when waking you on a stakeout that's all," his tone was still teasing and she smiled slightly in response.

"It's okay on stakeouts. It's okay when the same person who's there when I go to sleep wakes me up," she paused, horrified at what that sounded like even as the words left her mouth. Her eyes met his, fully expected him to take the opening. Every other cop she knows would have. A chance to finally rib ice queen Benson about something sexual would be irresistible.

For a second he was tempted to take advantage of her verbal faux pas. But then he saw the vulnerability in those huge eyes and how tired she looked and sat on his automatic cop asshole tendencies. He wanted this thing to work and if that means giving up a little fun he was willing to make sacrifices.

"Good to know," he noted, his tone surprisingly gentle for such a big guy. She felt herself relax as he didn't take the opening she inadvertently left for him. His blue eyes broke from hers to check out the perp through the two way mirror and with an inward sigh of relief she refocused on the business in hand, the momentary awkwardness behind them.

"So," Stabler questioned, "how do you want to do this?"

She smiled at the oblivious perp through the glass, unaware of the edge to her smirk that Stabler noted with interest. She fucking loved this part of her job.

"Let's just say," she almost purred, "that I've got some ideas..."

Beside her Elliot twitched as the tone of her voice wrapped directly around his spine and pooled in his dick. He risked a look at her. She was staring at their potential perp through the window, eyes narrow and focused and intent. She was like some huge feline just waiting to pounce and the sight was instantly arousing. Firmly he told his unruly body to behave.

This was really nothing like working with Lake.


End file.
